


Pit Stop

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-28
Updated: 2007-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo and Jess, on the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pit Stop

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write Jess and I love Jo, so when I got in the mood to read some graphic femslash I wrote this little Jo/Jess smutlet. This was indeed just to write some porn, rather than develop a fully-fleshed AU, but hopefully there's enough information to suffice!

Jess always gets Jo so freakin' hot. Like when she looks over and sees the Texas sun glinting in Jess's hair, or when they're sitting side by side in Jo's red junker of a truck and Jess has her bare feet up on the dash, or when she's watching Jess's shoulder blades writhe as she reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. Or when Jess gets out of the shower and is in nothing but one of those skimpy white motel towels, or when they're in some crummy pub, scouting for information, and Jo sees some guy checking Jess out, looking at her little waist and her big smile. If Jess plays with one of Jo's knives. If she shows up at the counter of a gas station with a fashion magazine and a new pair of sunglasses. If they're in the truck, Jo's crappy shocks make all the bumps and dips in the road hit right between her legs, and it just gets worse. Sometimes Jo will pull over and say, point blank, "I wanna eat you out."

She knows Jess likes guys. She has this boyfriend she's trying to find, even though the trail's been cold for months, and she doesn't hook up with any of the guys who flirt with her 'cause she thinks they're still together even though she hasn't heard from him and he's probably dead. Whatever, Jo likes guys, too. She'll dance with 'em at honky tonks and perks her eyebrows at 'em when they grab her ass, let 'em kiss her when she saves their lives, take 'em back to the room and ride 'em, and like it fine. But guys aren't Jess.

"The nearest motel's just like, seven miles away..." Jess'll say reproachfully, big-eyed and innocent.

"Pit stop," says Jo, calling the shots like she always does. "We're not checking in till we get to Kellyville at least."

"Jo!" She laughs, sweet and surprised, like Jo's never eaten her out splayed over the front seat before. Her lips pull into this dirty smile and her eyes are dark, and in spite of her protest, her mouth is open and vulnerable under Jo's. 

With the engine still doing its machine-gun rattle under the big ol' hood that's covered in dust and streaks of what once were insects, with "Delta Dawn" coming in all tinny over the radio, Jess will lift her hips, and Jo will shove her worn jeans down. They've got a wide hole in one knee now even though they were new when Jess and Jo set off on the road.

She's such a good girl. She protests like she's got any morals left at this point, but Jess gets wet if Jo even says, "I wanna get something to eat," and Jo's small fingers are pointed and purposeful when they slide over the crotch of her little panties, which are about a thousand times cuter than Jo's and all pink and cherry-printed. Jess is hot beneath the fabric, and Jo can smell her cunt even over the smell of her shampoo and that worn laundromat cotton smell of that hoodie of her boyfriend's she always wears when it's cold.

"I'm gonna put my tongue there," Jo promises, her middle finger rubbing tight little circles in the cleft of Jess's pussy, that little separation that she's going to open up and dig into with her nose sliding all along it. And Jess, her jeans around her calves, moans brokenly, one hand (the nails of which were painted alternately black and pink last week while they were reading old issues of _Glamour_ at this Ramada Inn) clenching at the door.

It's not really like how it is when they're in one of those motels, in a bed probably a hundred other people have fucked in. Then, Jo can press Jess's legs apart and kiss the insides of her thighs. Under the yellow bedside light she can just look at her pussy, with its sandy, sparse curls and glistening folds that go from a delicate rose-pink to dangerous red if she pulls them apart with two fingers. Then, she can spend an hour at her leisure sucking on her and getting her to quiver. But in the truck, all she can do is get her hands around Jess's bare, girl-smooth thighs and pull her down in the seat, pull her jeans down to her ankles and duck under one leg until it's arched over her shoulder and peel the damp crotch of her panties aside and shove her tongue right in.

"Oh my God," cries Jess, distressed and pretending. "What if someone sees? Oh my God..."

Once, someone did see, but that was at a truck stop outside of Detroit, and this is Middle of Nowhere, Oklahoma. Jess didn't see the guy staring, but Jo did, and she ate Jess out anyway, until she was crying and the sounds were sliding out the crack of the open window and all she could think was, _That pervert's listening to Jessie come._ Then, after, when she laughingly told Jess about it as they sat in a McDonald's parking lot and sipped at McFlurries, Jess went pink in the face and limped off to the bathroom. Jo had to wait outside it for ten freakin' minutes before Jess opened the door, still flushed; Jo pushed her back into the bathroom to demand, "You mad at me?"

She ended up with her fingers up Jess's snatch, telling her all about how that guy had stared, had heard her beg Jo to lick her clit, had heard her sob as she came, and Jess creamed all over her hand so loud a McDonald's employee knocked on the door to ask if everything was all right.

"Fine!" Jo had called - and then muttered, kind of not realizing, "The whole place just heard you wailing and the door's not even locked."

At that, Jess came again.

Now, Jo knows that Jess gets hot over the idea of coming in front of someone, and she wonders if that Sam moron knew that about his sweet little girlfriend. She just fucking bets not.

"Tell me if any cops show up," mutters Jo thickly, and snarls her tongue into Jess's dripping hot snatch. It tastes tart and bittersweet and her chin is slimy in an instant, and Jo pushes her tongue in an awkward, eager roll over the hidden little knot of Jess's clit, listening to her gasp.

Eating pussy's a lot hotter than blowing a guy. Jo can do a girl with her tongue for much longer than she can keep her jaw open around a dick, and hearing a girl come over and over is much better than hearing some dude just grunt like a pig. She can draw it out for ages, licking and nuzzling everywhere but where Jess wants it -- but just then, Jo's rubbing her tongue against Jess's clit so furiously that it's not even half a minute before Jess is keening, "Jo, _Jo_!" and Jo can feel her chin getting wetter, can tell a little gush of juice is smearing down Jess's legs and onto her front seat. 

Yeah, not the first time.

When Jo surfaces, panting and wet-mouthed, a stand of her own hair sticking to her chin, she manages, "You say seven miles?"

Jess just snickers breathlessly, open-kneed in her little pink panties, and says, "I thought we weren't checking in till Kellyville."

... It's just that Jess always gets Jo so freakin' hot.


End file.
